


Eat the Rude

by diningwithpsychopaths



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gore, M/M, Murder Husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 02:33:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1493449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diningwithpsychopaths/pseuds/diningwithpsychopaths
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will and Hannibal have a fulfilling life living in Italy and killing together, but Will only kills bad people. That is until one evening when Will is trying to pick out dinner and finds that his tastes may be deviating to fit his husband's palate more than he had ever thought his morals would allow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eat the Rude

"Who do you want tonight?"

Will turns to look at his husband, the soft light of an afternoon settling into evening enhancing the sharp contours of his face. Hannibal has an almost empty glass of pinot blanc between his fingers, but his eyes are on Will, the anticipation of an answer already shifting his eye color from a warm burgundy to a sharper maroon.

Will takes a drink of his coffee, almost lukewarm from how long they have been lounging at the outdoor cafe, content with simply watching Italians and tourists walk around the plaza, the bright skirts of women like flowers ready to be plucked in the summer. More people were milling about now than when they had sat down and Will knew that once the masses showed up Hannibal would want to know about dinner.

"I don't know. There hasn't been anything of note in the papers. No one with dead eyes and a blood thirsty appetite wandering around at the moment, and I don't see any abusive partners in the streets."

Hannibal took a sip of his white wine. He knew Will enjoyed going after the domestic abusers the most. Probably thought it was metaphoric in a way. Probably was, but Hannibal wondered if tonight he could tempt Will to hunt something less obvious.

"We don't have anything fresh in the fridge," Hannibal calmly mentioned. He caught Will's eye and Will gave a small frown. 

That wouldn't do. It was past the time to have gotten a fish fresh enough for Hannibal's tastes and vegetarian meals were reserved for people they respected.

"Perhaps you'll see a killer soon enough," Hannibal said and drained his glass. 

The way he said it, though, made Will a bit uneasy. What if no one horrible walked by? Perhaps he should have gone after that rapist three days ago, but he had been busy walking Delilah and killing with the dog around was not an option. She was much to hyper and loud to allow him to leave her tied to a post for a bit and they had been too far from their home to take her back and then pick up the trail.

Will gave a nod and took another sip of coffee, but it had too much of a bite to it, not enough cream to be smooth and soothe his mounting anxiety. He turned towards the open plaza, a late afternoon breeze fluttering by. He focused on one woman whose had the gait of someone who thought themselves superior to the rest of the world, but right away Will knew it was a harmless narcissism, even if it probably kept her relationships from becoming too personal.

Hannibal's gaze remained on him, patient as he waited for Will to find someone, but there was no one! Will bit his bottom lip and let his finger circle around the rim of his mug, but his saliva made it too slippery and the pad of his finger slipped off.

"We can stop by the market," Hannibal offered.

Will ground his teeth together and felt Hannibal's gaze grow heavy. Will didn't want to go to the market, he wanted to find someone. Hannibal would have already picked out the perfect person. He would have gone after that rapist three days earlier, but then he also would have taken the young woman who had been sitting at the table next to them a hour earlier, her voice high pitched as she bragged into her phone about her affair with her sister's husband.

Will shook his head. Sitting here and sipping coffee that was too bitter and too cold wasn't helping. He needed to roam, he needed to get closer to the people as they weaved their way past one another, the flow of their traffic like the rush of a river. Staying put made him restrained, moored on a rock.

"Let's walk," Will said, his hand already in his pocket to take out the money for their bill.

Hannibal gave a nod, but Will only knew it because he had become so in-tuned to Hannibal that the other man's movements felt like his own.

Once the bill was payed for the two took their leave of the cafe and merged with the early evening crowd. 

"Are we going to the market, Will?"

Will shook his head. He couldn't respond to Hannibal, perhaps he could fool his husband into thinking he had spotted their prey, and that they were now engaged in the thrill of the hunt. Of course this was a vain hope, Will knew his movements were too abrupt to pass off as the glide of stalking, knew Hannibal could probably smell the anxiety build up in his chest.

Then Will spotted someone. A man in his late thirties, dressed well but not too showy, a smile that aimed to charm a woman right off the streets and into a dark room where he could enjoy her screams. Will let out a breath of relief and slipped his fingers between Hannibal's as he made his way towards their prey. They were only a few feet away when the breeze picked up, their prey's coat flapping in their direction and Hannibal paused.

"What-"

"The meat is rotting."

Will let go of Hannibal's hand and groaned. His prey was obscured by two tall women whose arms were interlinked and when they had moved past, Will's prey was gone.

"It is no problem to go to the market Will."

Will shook his head, his mouth tasting bitter from the coffee and the loss of his kill. It had been weeks since he had taken someone, and whereas before he enjoyed the days in-between, they now made his fingers itch, his skin feel too dry without the slickness of blood to coat it. Will kept his face from Hannibal. Hannibal would have already chosen someone. Hannibal would have chosen the muscular man who had cat called a couple earlier and then had proceeded to call them cunts when they ignored his offensive behavior.

Will dove further into the growing mass of people, Hannibal then becoming his shadow, never leaving him but never getting to close. 

The sun had disappeared behind the buildings by then, the sky's color beginning to blush with the arrival of the sunset, and with it came more people. People who bumped into Will and stepped on the leather shoes Hannibal had bought him a few months ago because he enjoyed being the one to arrange Will's outer appearance and Will felt good when he donned the suits and the expensive touches Hannibal fitted him into. Will bit back growls as people brushed against him, they were too close, their skin giving off so much heat and everyone seemed to have slathered themselves with perfume and cologne and it muffled the evening breeze. Their contact and musk overpowering even the presence of Hannibal, causing it to become fainter and fainter until suddenly then suddenly the ever present undertone of Hannibal, the feel of his shadow, his essence was snuffed out.

Will halted and searched the crowd, but he could not see Hannibal. Could not smell him. Could not feel him and his skin began to feel foreign and the presence of these people crawled over him like insects and a rage filled him. His fingers curled in and his nails dug into the palms of his skin. He wanted to smash them all, take them by their heads and smash their heads against the cobble stones, letting their banal brains leak onto the heated stone where it would begin to bake, the aroma of the summer heat and the salt of the stone giving it perfect flavor. 

Will began to loosen his fists, the breeze had picked up into a wind and the aroma of the people, mere moments before too overpowering, now parted into categories of spice, and Will's fingers twitched for their little spice garden, the recipes Hannibal had made him perform over the years blossomed in his mind, a new one for every person he laid eyes on. 

He made to move forward when suddenly he was shoved to the side, the stench of cheap wine invading his senses and he stumbled back into a mother who gave a yelp and clutched her baby tighter. Will managed to right himself before he toppled both him and the mother over and she scuttled off, most likely cursing him in Italian.

"Don't stand in the middle of the street faggot. You almost made me trip."

Will turned towards the person who had so rudely pushed into him. A young man, still early twenties, but soon to be in his mid-twenties. His hair badly bleached to a piss yellow and his skin tanned from inappropriate muscle shirts. 

American guy, and from the smell of him on a vacation he wasn't paying for. He was alone.

Will gave the man a cold smile.

"Maybe you wouldn't be so prone to tripping if you had forgone your last few glasses."

"Excuse me?"

"You aren't."

The guy sneered something rude and then stumbled off.

Suddenly Hannibal was right behind Will, the soft cotton of his shirt brushed against Will's arms and it was if he had never left.

"I want him," Will said and nodded towards the American who had already ran into another person.

"Then catch him."

Will glanced behind him. Hannibal's face was calm as if he was simply enjoying a cooling night in Italian, but Will could see the small lift in the corners of his mouth and Will grinned back.

They followed the drunk through the streets of Sicily as the sky began to bleed with the reds and pinks of sunset. The smells of meat sauces and herbs heavy in the air as they made their way to more residential area and for a moment Will was afraid that the man would enter one of them, greeted by happy, innocent people, but his fears were unfounded.

The drunk seemed to have no destination and Will soon became irked with the man's aimlessness, but eventually the drunk paused and gave a look around. Will and Hannibal lingered outside a flower shop, seemingly engrossed in the bunches of roses who had lost much of their perfume to the heat of the day. The drunk then ducked into an alleyway and Will and Hannibal shook their heads at the roses and wandered away.

It was not surprising to find the drunk, forehead leaning pressed against the stone of the building before him, pissing into a puddle. Will waited until the sounds of piss splashing in the puddle ceased and he walked forward.

The drunk zipped up and turned to leave the alley way but was stopped short when he discovered that Will stood before him.

"The fuck do you want?"

"Just dinner," Will said, his voice lighter than it had been years.

The drunk glared at him and tried to walk past him, though intent on ramming his shoulder into Will's but Will was ready for him and he reached up, and his fingers settled on the man's neck while his other hand gripped the man's shoulder and Will pressed.

It wasn't so easy, though, and the drunk, though movements slow, made to shove Will away, vulgar words dirt on his tongue, but then Hannibal appeared behind the man, and with skill far more advanced than Will, he slid his fingers beneath Will's on the man's neck and the drunk went limp.

"If you would Will," Hannibal said as he slid one of the man's arms around his shoulder, one of his arms firm around the man's back. Will nodded and used his own shoulders to prop the man's other side up.

They carried him back to their home as such, no one giving them more than a passing glance. It was common to see tourists during the summer being cared for, led back to their hotels or hostels by good friends.

Once home Will and Hannibal deposited the man in their basement, a tarp already laid out. Hannibal always thinking ahead.

"Shall I wake him?"

Will opened his mouth, his heart had begun to beat faster on their way back home and he wondered if the man's stink of cheap wine had gone to Will's head some. 

This man was not a killer, he had never grievously harmed anyone in his life, and yet....

And yet Will could not turn away from him. His finger tips buzzed, his palms felt too dry and he just had to sink them into this man. This man who had been so rude to him. Who had caused him to almost push down a mother and her baby.

"Will?"

Will's ears buzzed, but the thought of hearing this man scream, hearing him plead for his innocence made Will's throat dry, his mouth taste bad. Will shook his head.

"Another time then," Hannibal said as he rolled their gurney of tools to Will's side. His voice was calm, understanding and soothed Will's sickness. Hannibal took the sedatives from the gurney, sedatives he had once used on Will to keep him from screeching as he watched Hannibal kill for them, to keep him home.

Will tore his gaze from his catch once Hannibal had finished administrating the sedatives. Will looked down at the gurney and gave a chuckle.

"Fishing hooks?"

"You did catch him."

Will ran a hand over his styled stubble. "I can't display him."

"I had hoped this piece would be for me."

Will's eyes darted up to meet Hannibal's and he gave a small gasp. Hannibal's irises were nearly scarlet and Will could feel a burst of arousal that spread throughout his body, not content with limiting itself to his cock.

Will nodded, his throat now dry for a different reason and he picked up the knife he normally used to gut his fish.

Will knelt beside the body and began to unbutton the man's shirt. He had to grab the scissors to cut away the under shirt and then he moved them to the side, then he unbuttoned the man's pants and slid them down with his underwear. The man's stomach was barely a shade paler than the rest of the skin and Will slipped the knife into the man's flesh and he slid it upwards. His hands felt skilled, as if he were on the shore after a day of waiting in cold river water for his catch, a chef who knew exactly how to cut the meat so that it would cook to perfection. 

The blood welled up and as Will tugged the knife downwards. His hands soon began wet with his catch's blood, and the excess blood trickled down the man's sides onto the tarp. It wasn't until Will had reached the chest plate that his catch began to stir, but he never woke.

Will turned to Hannibal, his heart picking up a bit when he could not see his husband right beside him, but then he calmed when he realized Hannibal had simply confided himself to the edges of Will's work space. His fingers curled into his palms and his lips parted a bit as he watched Will.

"What do you want to cook tonight?" Will asked, his voice heavy.

"Tonight is your dish," Hannibal said, his voice just as thick as Will's and the arousal from before sparked once again. Will's grip on his knife tightened and he nodded.

He took the man's lungs, the snap of his ribs dull against the stone of their basement and Will could feel the body convulse and once he swore the man's eyes fluttered open, but Hannibal had drugged his catch just to the point of death, allowing for Will to take that honor.

The lungs had a bit of a smokey smell to them, but they were not damaged.

Once he had lain the lungs aside Will set about preparing the body for Hannibal's viewing pleasure. He moved back to the gurney and gave a wry grin at the fishing line that had been placed there. There was even a pole should he want.

He slid two hooks into the front of the man's shoulders, one per shoulder, gutted deep into the meat so that it would not tear when aloft. Ten more hooks, five on each side, stopping at the man's hip. After Will had sewn the man's arms to his side and then sewn back his torso he grabbed the step stool and began to hang the the free line from the rafters Hannibal had built in for when he needed to hang something to bleed out. 

Will's catch was raised until he was on his knees, his torso prostrate in the air. Will then back away and gave a frown. It wasn't as artistic as Hannibal would have made it and the thrill he while dressing his catch began to fade. Of course it wasn't going to be beautiful, he wasn't the artist. He wasn't-

Hannibal was then at Will's back, his fingers digging into Will's hips and his tongue dragging up Will's cheek to sample the blood of their dinner.

"It's not as good as when you do it," Will muttered.

Hannibal's fingers dug in deeper and Will winced.

"It is perfect my dear Will," Hannibal all but moaned and he pressed close to Will, his erection firm against Will's ass. 

Pride began to well up in Will's chest and he pushed back against Hannibal. Will turned his head, his stubble scratching Hannibal's cheeks, coating them with blood, and he ran his fingers along Hannibal's gelled hair, the blood making his husband's hair shine even more.

"I hope you don't expect me to cook dinner too," Will joked.

Hannibal chuckled and kissed the side of Will's mouth. "I am so proud of you Will," he whispered.

Will closed his eyes and allowed himself to be turned around. He tasted the blood of his catch on Hannibal's tongue, his lips smeared with it. He felt proud of himself and wished he had allowed himself to embrace Hannibal's standards for dinner sooner.

**Author's Note:**

> so this was spurred on by a random tumblr post made by drhanniballecter to which I just had to write a fic for even though it's probably already been done, but I needed it. Oh god did I need to write this.


End file.
